by Day Leclaire
“We’ll discuss them now.”
She considered arguing, but flat out didn’t have the strength. Defeated, she nodded. “Fine. Start discussing.”
He released her arm and drew a deep breath. “You have some loyal employees who are willing to stick by you. I’m impressed. But why whitewash things for your uncle? He’s the one who caused this mess. It’s his store. Why isn’t he the one taking responsibility?”
“I take on the responsibility because it’s my job,” she insisted. “Uncle Cletus made an error in judgment, that’s all. Besides, what good would harping at him do? Would it change the facts? No. Would it make me feel better to beat him into the ground? No. I look at the bottom line and go from there. I figure out how to keep our employees, how to mitigate damages, and how to turn this whole ugly mess to our advantage.”
A humorless smile lit his face. “If you come up with a way to turn this to your advantage, let me know.”
“I will. In the meantime, I have work to do. Either get out of my way, or get run over. It’s your choice.”
She’d never seen his eyes so dark and threatening. “You have a funny way of asking for help, love.”
Damn her pride! And damn the family loyalty that forced her to say, “There’s nothing to keep you here. This isn’t your business, Rainer. I appreciate all you did today, but you don’t have to stay.”
With all her heart, she hoped he would. But she’d learned the hard way that what she hoped and what she wanted didn’t matter in the least.
“Now there you’re wrong, sweetheart. I do have to stay,” he stated through gritted teeth. “I paid five hundred dollars for the privilege, remember?” His voice lowered ominously. “And don’t you dare offer to refund the money.”
“Don’t worry. I can’t,” she said, her tone dry as dust. “Unless you want it in tomatoes.”
For a brief instant, amusement flickered in his light blue eyes. Then it was gone. “Let’s get busy. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
She hesitated. “Rainer, I . . .” The words wouldn’t come. “Thanks,” she said in a thick voice. “I owe you.”
Not only did it turn out to be a long night setting the store to rights, it turned out be a very long night. Jordan finally crawled into bed at two in the morning, feeling like one massive, raw nerve. She didn’t know how she’d survive the rest of the week. It would take every bit of grit and determination she possessed and then some. But she’d manage. Somehow. Cornucopia would survive, even if it killed her. She rolled over, her muscles protesting the movement. And kill her it probably would.
Over the next two days, Jordan discovered the true meaning of hell. The endless hours passed in a blur of work and exhaustion—but never tears. She refused to give in to the luxury. She barely exchanged half a dozen words with Rainer. She knew he worried, but she had the family honor to uphold. What else did he expect her to do?
Jordan sighed. She knew what he expected. He expected her to give in. He expected her to sell out. Not that she would. Locking the doors Friday night, she could hardly contain her relief. One more day . She could survive another twenty-four hours.
She hoped.
Grabbing a wooden box of radishes, she headed for the cooler. Two steps later the box slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. She stood and stared at it, too tired to bend over and pick it up. Too tired to care.
Rainer appeared behind her and lifted her bodily out of the way. “Odin’s blood! There’s nothing left to grab. I could knock you over with a kiss.”
Jordan closed her eyes, shivering at the thought. She’d love him to knock her over with a kiss. She’d missed being held and kissed by him. She pushed the thought away, unwilling to give in to that luxury any more than she’d give in to tears.
“I’ll survive,” she muttered.
“I’m not so sure.” He crouched and tossed the radishes into the box.
Her mouth tightened. “I can handle it.”
“Maybe. But why should you?” He stood and glared. “Cletus owns the store. It was his mistake. When does he take responsibility for his own actions? And when are you going to stop covering for him? He should know what he’s doing to you.”
“He’s not doing anything to me,” she snapped back. “It’s my choice. If I’d checked the ad in the first place, none of this would have happened.”
“That’s almost too ludicrous to comment on.” He slammed the radishes onto the counter. “No! I will comment, if only because you need to hear it. He’s a grown man, Jordan. If he can’t handle the business or if his health interferes, then he should get out. What happens when he retires? You’ll have to take on his work, as well as your own. You’ll never have a life outside of Cornucopia. You don’t now!”
“Just because I haven’t time for a roll in the grass with you, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life. I have a life right here. It’s a very satisfying one.”
He stepped closer. “So I see. So satisfying that you’ve dropped five pounds.” His hand closed over her wrist and he groaned. “What’s happened to my Valkyrie? She’s fading away right in front of me.”
She made a small murmur of denial and attempted to pull free.
He cupped her face, holding her, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. “Your eyes are so shadowed and empty. They aren’t blue anymore, or gray. There aren’t any typhoons left, no more volcanoes, no fire and brimstone. There’s just sheer exhaustion. Jordan, look at what you’re doing. Look beyond Cornucopia. Look at what else could be part of your life.”
“Meaning you?”
“Okay, yes. Meaning me.”
“Forget it! You’re what got me into this mess in the first place.”
He stilled, his expression alert and wary. “What are you talking about?”
She trembled within his grasp, too angry and exhausted to choose her words. “I was so distracted by you I neglected my job and my family. Worse, I neglected Cornucopia. I’d have remembered to check that ad if I hadn’t been so busy playing Viking love games.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Yes, I do! You’re right. I can’t have both Cornucopia and a relationship in my life. At least, not right now.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning one or the other goes.”
“So now you choose.” He said it without inflection, which made it all the more final.
Her chin lifted defiantly. “All right, I choose. And I choose Cornucopia.” She thought her heart would break the instant she said the words. But family had to come first. Cornucopia had to come first. “Stay away tomorrow,” she told him, though it sounded more like a plea. “Give us some time to weigh our options. Give me some time.”
He thought about it and reluctantly nodded. “Very well, I’ll stay away.” He gave her a direct look. “But only until Monday. By Monday, this whole business will be resolved.”
J ordan made it through Saturday, though just. Without Rainer’s physical and emotional support, she quickly found herself in over her head. Sheer perversity kept her from folding until the last customer had left. Then she took the sorry amount of money in the cash register, locked Cornucopia and trudged home.
She should deposit the money at the bank. It wasn’t safe keeping it around the house. With a yawn that practically knocked her over, she shoved the sack of change, bills, and checks under her pillow, tumbled on top of it, and fell asleep before her feet left the floor.
Sunday afternoon at one, Jordan finally awoke. With Uncle Cletus nowhere to be found, she made a fast run to the bank before heading for the store. Not giving herself time to think about the disaster that awaited, she started at one end and worked steadily to the other, cleaning everything in sight.
Once finished, she wandered through the market, at loose ends. If only she could release some of her excess tension. She brightened
. Maybe she’d give herself a treat and check out the other groceries in the area, and compare prices and quality. It was another facet of her job, and one she particularly enjoyed. She locked up quickly and headed for the national chain store down the street.
Within minutes, the feeling of stress faded. Taking her time, she examined everything, and by the end of her walkthrough, she’d satisfied herself that Cornucopia was the better store. Naturally. Just as she turned to leave, she glimpsed Seth, the student who always shopped at Cornucopia, her “personal project,” as she liked to think of him.
Jordan smiled, about to approach, when she spotted the fruits and vegetables loaded in his cart. Her smile faded. Wait a minute. What was he doing? He couldn’t afford that. He was a penniless student forced to shop at Cornucopia on credit. He always needed a helping hand. Her helping hand. How could he pay for all that food? She frowned in confusion.
A produce worker exited the storage area behind her, pushing a trolley loaded with cabbage. Jordan lowered her head, pretending an intense interest in the alfalfa sprouts.
“Hiya, Seth,” the store employee said in a friendly voice. “Not shopping at Cornucopia today?”
Seth shook his head. “They’re closed. Besides, I have to be careful. If my tab gets too high there, I might actually have to pay it!”
The produce man laughed. “Which is why we don’t offer credit. After all, business is business.”
Jordan stood there stunned, unable to believe what she’d just heard. Her most loyal customer wasn’t loyal at all! Not in the least. He’d been using her, taking advantage of her generosity, just as Michelle and Rainer had suggested. He didn’t shop at Cornucopia because the market was special. He did it because she never forced him to pay! How blind she’d been.
Business is business. The produce worker was right. Cornucopia, something she’d considered in the same light as a family member, was a business. Her parents and grandparents wouldn’t want her to sacrifice everything for Cornucopia. Nor did they live on through the store, as she’d always thought. Their accomplishments and their memory lived on through her. For the past ten years, she’d put business before everything else in her life, even before her own happiness.
Even before Rainer.
No longer, she decided. She refused to remain blinded to the truth for another minute. She wanted more from life than a store. She wanted love and a family. Mostly she wanted Rainer. And she didn’t intend losing him. Though she’d fight to keep the market, if it came to a choice, Cornucopia would lose. Hands down.
That just left her a few decisions to make about the future. She thought about Rainer’s suggestion, to look beyond Cornucopia at what else could be part of her life. He’d made a valid point.
She felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. Cornucopia hung like an albatross around her neck, something Rainer had known all along. She’d carried the responsibility for so long she didn’t know how freedom felt. Until now. If she lost the market, her life wouldn’t end. She’d find something else to do. She grinned. Of course she would.
She left the chain store and returned home. The house stood dark and empty. Where was Uncle Cletus? Her stomach growled in hunger and she headed for the kitchen to fix a quick omelet. There, she found his note.
Have errands to run. Don’t worry about the store, I’ll take care of everything. Wake me before you leave tomorrow. Love you, girl.
U.C.
“I love you, too,” she murmured. “And you don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve taken care of it for you. And I always will.”
The next morning, Jordan peeked into her uncle’s bedroom. He slept soundly, still looking exhausted. Deciding not to disturb him, she quietly closed the door. She’d talk to him after buying. Things should be a lot quieter at Cornucopia this morning.
She left the house in renewed spirits, feeling better than ever about yesterday’s decisions. The August morning dawned bright and fresh, the sea gulls and crows as raucous as ever. She hopped in the truck and drove south toward the city. Rainer had mentioned Monday as his personal deadline. Did he plan to meet her at the wholesale market? The thought gave her a warm, happy glow. She urged a little more speed out of the ancient truck.
The docks bustled with normal Monday morning traffic. She climbed the steps to the loading area, and the noise and confusion abated. She looked around, surprised by the sudden silence. Was she being paranoid, or did it have something to do with her?
After a momentary uneasiness, she waved to Marco and another salesman, Mel, who were busy writing up an order for a small stand in Lake City. They stared at her. Hesitantly Marco raised his hand. Then he spoke sharply to Mel, snapped closed his order book, and hurried off the docks into Constantine’s warehouse. Mel gave her a final curious glance and went back to work.
Okay, so she’d been a little out of sorts last week, Jordan admitted grudgingly. She frowned. Maybe more than a little. But had she been such a terror that they couldn’t stand being on the same dock with her?
She stepped into the warehouse, searching for Terry, and discovered him off to one side talking to Marco. The two argued, gestures flying in every direction. The discussion ended abruptly, with Marco barking out a final heated comment and scuttling toward the steps that led to the offices. Terry turned and approached.
“What? Do I have leprosy or something?” she groused good-naturedly. “I know I was a little bit temperamental last week, but—”
“What are you doing here, Jordan? I thought you’d be home.”
She stared at him in bewilderment. “Why would I be home? I have buying to do. Have you ever known me to miss a day?”
He yanked his cap low over his brow, refusing to meet her eyes. “No. But that was before—” He shrugged. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know. Why don’t you fill me in?” He looked everywhere but at her, humming and hawing. She tapped her foot impatiently. Enough was enough. “Come on,” she began in a no-nonsense voice. “What gives?”
Before Jordan could get another word out, Andrea called to her from her second floor office window. “Come up and see me. I need to talk to you.”
Jordan glanced at Terry, noting his relief. “I gather the boss lady will explain?”
He couldn’t have looked more miserable. Pulling out a checkered handkerchief, he mopped the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. Real sorry. I wish there was something . . . Ah, shoot.” He shoved the hanky into his back pocket. “See ya ’round, Jordan,” he said, and took off.
Alarm raced through her. What the heck was going on? Had Nick blown his cork because Andrea had sold them their ad items at cost? Maybe her family was no longer welcome at Constantine’s. She glanced toward Andrea’s office. Her friend stood at the window, an unusually grim expression on her face.
Taking a deep breath, Jordan headed for the steps. She climbed them two at a time, striding down the hallway to Andrea’s office. She opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.
“Okay, what gives?” she demanded without preliminary.
Andrea crossed the room and shut the door. “Sit, Jordan.”
“I don’t want to sit. I want to know—”
“Sit down!” Andrea closed her eyes. “Please.”
Jordan shoved a stack of papers off the chair and, without another word, obeyed. “Okay. I’m sitting. Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”
“When’s the last time you saw your uncle?” Andrea asked unexpectedly.
Jordan leapt to her feet. “Uncle Cletus? What’s happened to him? Is he all right?”
Andrea braced her hands on Jordan’s shoulders and shoved her back into the chair. “Take it easy. As far as I’m aware, your uncle’s physical health is fine. I’ve never been able to swear to his mental wellbeing. In fact, your presence here today confirms the man should be locked up and the key swallowed by a fast-slithering rattlesnake.”
&n
bsp; “For the last time, what are you talking about?”
“Rumor has it . . .” Andrea sighed and collapsed into the chair behind her desk. “No, it isn’t rumor. I checked and it’s fact. Damn it, Jordan. I’m so sorry. Your uncle sold out to the Thorsens.”
“What?” Jordan laughed, relaxing. “You’re wrong. Uncle Cletus would never sell out. Never. Not in a month of Sundays. Not in a million years. Not for a million . . .” Bucks . The words struck a chord of memory and her laughter died away.
She pictured Rainer in her living room, intent on working at Cornucopia, and bribing Uncle Cletus in order to do it. Rainer had held out money like a succulent morsel of meat to a hungry man. With the bath they’d taken over the ad and the sharp reduction in her uncle’s retirement savings, he’d be more than hungry. Uncle Cletus would be starving.
And Rainer knew it.
“Are you listening to me? Jordan!” Andrea’s expression reflected her concern. “Are you all right?”
“Are you sure?” Jordan asked in a shaken voice. “There’s absolutely no mistake?”
A mist of tears glittered in Andrea’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve checked and rechecked. It’s fact.”
Jordan no longer tried to deny the truth of the claim. How could she when it was a sure thing?
Rainer had gone behind her back and bought out Cornucopia.
“He knew, Andrea,” she said in a low voice. “He knew we’d be hurting, and he used that information to get at Uncle Cletus.”
“You mean because Dad revoked your line of credit?” her friend asked hesitantly.
It took several seconds for her words to sink in. Jordan sat and stared, wondering if she was the only one in the entire universe who knew less than nothing about Cornucopia. She cleared her throat. “We lost our line of credit, as well?”
Andrea groaned. “You didn’t hear? Cletus didn’t mention that, either? Dad called him to discuss it, I’m sure he did.”